Coffin
by muentiger
Summary: The first thing you are taught as a child in District 2 is to never feel emotion. Was it such a crime to think otherwise? Response and Winner to SkyeElf's challenge of the week. Dark, and slightly OOC. NOT A SONGFIC!


**A/N: Hello, again. This one-shot is in response to SkyeElf's weekly challenge, the prompt centring around the Hunger Games pairing of Cato/Clove, somehow involving a dream. The italicised lines are all indicating the narration of a dream. This is my first time writing a Hunger Games fic, or any dark fic for that matter. A warning to you all, this is quite dark. The inspiration for this story come from the new Black Veil Brides song, "Coffin," the lyrics of which I take no credit for. Some brief notes: this occurs after the death of Rue, and Julius is a character I created to be the District 2 mentor. **

Clove's POV

_The first thing you are taught as a child in District Two is to never feel emotion._

_Was it such a crime to think otherwise?_

_I had always believed in hope, in freedom, in love. Slowly, everything blurred, my image of the world distorting into reality. The Games took away my hope, Panem took my freedom. _

_They would never take love from my heart. _

_Even in the heart of the Arena, where we had set up camp, love was alive. Love was lying beside me, breathing evenly as he lay prostrate, his hair falling over his eyes. It was my watch, and I had willingly taken it. My mentor had warned me of this happening, that Cato was nothing more than a devil with an angel's face. But how could I not? Cato was different, to me at least. He treated everyone like scum, but made sure that I was protected during the Bloodbath. I told him he was being silly, that I could protect myself, but he merely cut me off, saying no one should get close enough for me to need to defend myself. _

_I sighed deeply, poking at our minimal fire with the butt of his spear. A few charcoals burnt out, and I was enveloped in the darkness, and in my thoughts._

_The same question plagued me, repeating in my head like an ascetic's prayer: Why him? He was a monster, using brute force to his best advantage. It was not as though he was particularly kind; he was arrogant, obscene, and violent. And yet he was charming, gentle and surprisingly intelligent. Back in the District, he had an infamous reputation as a playboy, and I could certainly see why. As a Career, he was raised to be perfect, with messy blonde locks and piercing grey-green eyes. I was a fool to think that anything could come of my infatuation, but I felt it was my duty to perform one last rebellion against the Capitol._

_The wind blew sharply, startling me out of my daydream. From the skies, the stars looked down upon me and I felt as though they represented the eyes of the Capitol, delving into my darkest dreams, my fears. To pass the time, I pulled a knife from my holster, throwing into the air before catching it again. An ancient tune passed through my head, one that I had not heard for a long time._

So I'm not giving up, Won't let you suffocate me, You'll find your hell is home

_It was an odd song, and I never fully understood the meaning of the lyrics. But I had heard it when I was 5, and my mother began singing it while being beaten by the Peacekeepers. We had never been the richest of families, but she battled addictions to every drug in Panem. She hadn't even been sober enough to wish me a proper farewell after the Reaping. _

_Yet, as I sat in the deafening silence, I finally comprehended what she had been telling me that day. This Arena, it was hell, but I had found a home here, among someone who I loved. Despite the inevitability of death, I was at peace. I knew I would not win, I had not the relentless drive to do so. The Games had stripped me of my will. _

_And if it came down to the two of us, Cato would kill me without thinking twice. Of this, I was certain. _

_"As much as I find a knife being thrown over my head by an absent-minded mademoiselle oddly entrancing, I'd rather live to see tomorrow," I heard a deep voice suddenly say, and my knife slipped from my grip, only to be snatched from the air by a wide-awake Cato._

_"What were you thinking?" I yelled, diving at him cat-like, and pinning him beneath me, my hands at his neck. My mind had gone blank with animalistic proclivity, and I felt the rush of adrenaline give me a strength I had not possessed before. Nevertheless, he simply lay below me, a nonchalant grin plastered to his face, though his muscles rippled dangerously under his shirt. _

_"I was certainly not expecting you to straddle me, otherwise I would've taken a knife much sooner," he chuckled, and I slapped him swiftly across the cheek. He did not recoil in the slightest as I did so, even if a burning red mark was left in its wake. _

_"You deserved that," I growled, seizing back my knife and crawling back to my spot, choosing to sit petulantly, my arms crossed tightly._

_"If you say so, Clove," he replied, his hand resting against his sword as he perused the area, his eyes lingering on the sleeping figures. "Why don't we just get rid of them all?" he asked finally, as though it would make no difference._

_"I think we both know that we will, eventually. We might as well use them to our advantage in the meantime," I told him, forcing my voice to sound nonchalant, though I could feel it was trembling somewhat. Despite my obdurate heart, the young man frightened me beyond what I would allow myself to believe. _

_"What makes you think that I'd spare you?" he spat, and I rose from my spot, throwing back my pathetic excuse for hair. My eyes focused upon him, analysing his expression carefully. I smirked._

_"You hesitated," I kept my face straight, and he let out a laugh. After a while, I allowed myself to relax, only to find myself pinned against a tree, my hands pinned over my head and my own knife at my throat. His eyes looked deep into mine with an emotion I couldn't place, and I could feel his grip leaving dark bruises on my wrists._

_"How about now?" he demanded, pressing the knife into my jugular. I felt my skin break slightly, and a trickle of blood trail down my neck. Spots appeared in front of my eyes, and I thought I smelled the stench of oxidising metal._

_"Let me go," I whispered, my voice descending several octaves into the depths of hell. I had never before been so terrified, and yet I couldn't bring myself to move._

_"I don't think so," he breathed onto my face, and I turned green as I detected the stench of rotting meat. It wasn't as though we had access to cosmetics in this godforsaken place, and none of us had paid much attention to hygiene. I myself hadn't bathed properly in days, weeks, months? I couldn't remember how much time had passed, much less what day it was. _

_"This is it, isn't it?" I asked him, and he smirked, the corners of his lips quirking up slightly, as the knife drew away from my neck, its blade reflecting the stars above us. _

_Exhaling sharply, I blinked slowly, trying to regulate my heartbeat. My hand went unconsciously to the cut on my neck, and I felt the blood seep onto my hand. The incision had not been deep, and he had managed not to nick any arteries in his rage-induced hysteria. _

_Suddenly, my eyes caught signs of movement, and I looked up in time to see him drive my own knife into my stomach. At first, I felt nothing, except for an odd sensation that told me something had entered my body which did not belong there. I tried to reach down, to pull the obstruction from my stomach, but he delivered a swift clout to my face, nearly knocking me unconscious. _

_And then the pain began. It was dull, as though my nerves did not fully register that my stomach had just been penetrated. _

_His face was emotionless, uncaring even, as he steadied his grip on the knife, twisting it sharply, before pulling it out, and wiping the blade on my sleeve. _

_"You won't die yet," he told me softly, as he began walking around the camp, slitting the throats of our comrades as he walked past their slumbering bodies. The pain in my stomach grew dramatically, as though someone had lit a fire inside my stomach. My eyes saw nothing, and my mind was only aware of my attacker, the adrenaline running through my body like a drug. It made me feel everything tenfold, increasing my suffering as my eyes darted around, trying to escape from this monster. As if it would make a difference, as though I had a chance._

_"That burning you're feeling is the hydrochloric acid that your stomach produced to digest. It is now burning through your muscles, your veins, everything," he continued, his formerly entrancing voice ringing in my ears like an executioner's gavel. I began shaking furiously, my body fighting to survive, to remain conscious. _

_With a start, I realised he had moved, and was now standing in front of me._

_"As we speak, the acid is spreading to your chest cavity, poisoning you from the inside out. In fifteen minutes, perhaps less, you will be dead," he concluded, placing a seemingly gentle hand on my cheek. I wanted to bite it off, but it seemed I could not control any motor function of my body. All I knew was pain._

_"Please," I managed, my voice cracking as a new rush of pain seeped into my senses. This was what hell felt like. "Make it end."_

_He laughed mercilessly, rising to his feet and gathering his newly-acquired weapons from the ground. Even in my delirium, I could but hold my breath at the sight of him: before me stood the best of us all-the Victor of the 74th Hunger Games._

_"Victors show no emotion," he spoke defiantly, walking off into the night without another word. _

_I fell to my knees, scrambling about on the ground to reach the body of the deceased boy from District 3. I never even knew his name, but I recalled he stashed penknife in the pocket of his pants. Cato had never been the most thorough of Careers, and I smiled maniacally as I found the knife, my hand closing around the precious hilt. _

_Words of a prayer my mother used to tell me as a child flooded my head as I looked at the sky._

_The knife took my last ounce of life as the sun shone its first rays over my face._

I arose from my torpor unceremoniously, my mouth open wide, trying to scream in horror. Never before had I had such a vivid dream. It was as though the knife's hilt was still buried in my stomach and I glanced down. I was fine, untouched. Alive.

"Clove? Are you okay?" a voice brought me back to life, and I whirled around, my knife poised to strike at my attacker's throat. Cato glanced at my knife and reached forward, his hand enveloping mine and forcing it to my side. It fell out of my hand, the dense grass muting the sound of metal hitting the earth.

His eyes looked me over skeptically, and I exhaled sharply, running forward towards him. THIS was Cato, and the other...a dream. A nightmare.

"What the hell happened?" he exclaimed, stiffening as I began crying against him. Slowly, he brought his arms around me, holding me close, supporting me as my knees threatened to give way.

"Bad dream," I responded, and he chuckled quietly, placing a hand on my head. I felt so childish, weeping uncontrollably into his arms due to a bad dream. Careers don't cry.

"Thank the Capitol," he muttered, and I pulled away, an expression of pain seizing my features.

"Go away, Cato. I don't want you here," I said curtly, and he rolled his eyes, placing a hand on my face. I flinched in response, recalling the vivid scene. My hand closed automatically around the hilt of my back-up knife.

"I thought you had been attacked. Hell knows I would have never known if you snuck away, and got yourself killed in the process. A dream is the result of an overactive imagination," he replied off-handedly, looking as though he wanted to say something else.

"Whatever," I mumbled, and he stepped forward, sitting beside my upright figure.

"Come on, I won't bite," he gestured to his outstretched legs. I lowered myself onto the ground and he leaned against the tree as I allowed myself to recline against his figure lazily.

"Don't think this means anything. You need your sleep if I'll ever be able to turn in," he warned me, and I glanced up at him surreptitiously.

"Shut up and let me sleep."

Cato's POV

After several minutes, her breathing regulated, indicating she was asleep once again. Great. Now I had to sit here, let her drool onto me as I 'protected' her from the boogie-man. Just...perfect.

I had made it explicitly clear to Julius that this would be a bad idea. That manipulating a scrawny little girl from District 2 was not necessary. I didn't need allies to win. But Panem is a sucker for hopelessly in love Tributes. Tributes with empathy, with emotion. What utter bullshit. Emotion made you weak, vulnerable to the evils of the world. And our world had a plethora of evils.

Ever since I could remember, I wanted to be a Tribute. I wanted the world to look to me as the most powerful, the greatest Victor of all time. Without a doubt, I knew I would win.

But the Alliance had ruined everything. Clove was a complication to my plan. She wasn't as beautiful as the girls back in the District, and yet, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. As much as I loathed Julius for ever insinuating that I'd need help, he had been right. Whereas I used brute force and intimidation, she could successfully manipulate anyone into a trap, or even into letting her sleep on them. She was a worthy ally, perhaps even more.

My family had never been openly affectionate. Father ran the house like a military barrack, and Mother had never seen much sense in disagreeing with him. It was easier to just detach from all emotion. Did that make me inhumane? Certainly. But one had to be inhumane to survive the Games.

So I pretended to care for the girl now laying peacefully across my lap. If it meant surviving, I would do anything. In a way, I felt as though I was going against the Capitol by living. I didn't owe them anything, they had made me the way I was today. President Snow had stripped all dignity from me, and I had gone along with it. For the honour, for the glory that victory would give me.

They would never steal my coffin.

Suddenly, she stirred, turning slightly so her face was towards mine. She was peaceful when she slept, her hair fanned across her face and her barely discernible freckles dotted her pointy nose. During the Interviews, she had been nothing less than breathtaking, and I could only be grateful for the fact that I had gone first. I didn't know WHY she affected me, but I had to get rid of her. It was beyond obvious she had fallen for me, but if the feelings grew mutual, I'd be dead in an instant. Of that, I was certain.

The days passed agonisingly quick, without much activity in the Arena. Lover-Boy and his girl had not been heard of for days, and we had begun searching for the others.

Finally, Clove came up with a plan. It was brilliant, really. And yet, I was hesitant. She'd have to put herself into the open, into blatant danger.

"Perhaps we can make do without it," I suggested late one night, causing her to turn to me and frown.

"Don't be ridiculous, Cato. We need everything we can get our hands on," she replied, nibbling at her lip in thought. It was such a small thing, but I found myself staring openly at her.

"Let me get it, at least," I insisted, and she smiled wickedly, her eyes lighting up.

"Has the great Cato gone soft?" she smirked, and I growled at her, only making her pull her arms around me further. She was a tiny thing, her arms barely reaching around my torso.

"I'll be fine. You'll be on lookout, remember. I trust you," she whispered, and my face blanched at her words. It had happened. Pushing her away, I shot her a small smile and reminded her that she needed sleep for the mission ahead of us.

That night, I dreamt of her.

The morning came faster than expected, and we walked in silence to the Cornucopia. The Pack had not arrived yet, so we hid in the bushes, sitting apart from each other in silence.

"Clove-" I began, but she cut me off, raising herself to her feet. The Pack appeared, as though it had just been dropped from the sky.

The Arena was silent, but my gut told me something was off. We were not alone.

I hated being right.

The girl from District 12 ran from the opposite side of the field, her face stony with desperation.

"Leave her to me," Clove breathed, jumping out of the brush and sprinting towards the Cornucopia for all she was worth. A knife glinted in her hand and she did not hesitate in throwing it towards the girl, catching her above the eye. In one slick move, Clove had her pinned beneath her, and I drew my own sword, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Not only was I letting Clove take the credit for killing an exceedingly popular tribute, but I was just sitting on the sidelines of it all. The Victor inside me had gone.

I did not notice the brute emerge from the woods to the right of me.

It seemed like a dream, as he tore her from the body of the girl, holding her a foot off the ground. He yelled at her, screamed at her, and I felt nothing but anger.

"Cato!" she screamed, but it was too late. He had bashed her head in with a rock. After they had left, and the night had fallen, I stepped out from hiding, my head lowered in shame as I neared her lifeless body.

Even in death, she was beautiful. I had realised too late. This was not my fault, or the fault of her murderer. It was the fault of the Capitol.

Allowing a single tear to slip down my cheek, I placed a kiss against her bitten lips, and pocketed her knives. The Capitol would pay for what they had done to her.

The next day, I found her murderer. He went willingly, apologising for what he had done. His life was taken by her first knife. After he died, I carved her name into his arms, with which he had killed the one thing I would ever love.

One down, two to go.

Sometimes I could swear I still felt her with me, watching me constantly. I began talking to her, even if she was not there.

I was not human anymore. I lived to eat, to breathe, to survive. I was an animal, with nothing to live for.

The sun continued to rise, as if to mock me that I had lived. My District had sent me armour, supposedly impermeable to any kind of weapon. They wanted me to live. I wanted to die. But I refused to take my own life. I still had my pride.

I had heard noises in the forest several days earlier, and I decided to search for the source. Oddly enough, I felt more like own self, numb from the outside world. Like my old self, I had one sole purpose. To win.

Finally, I reached the banks of a river, with a cave carved from the rock. It was an oddly idyllic place, a small heaven in the depths of the darkest hell.

At the sound of a deep growl, I turned around, my hand instinctively placed on the hilt of my sword. I would not die until I had avenged her.

In front of me stood a pack of what looked to be wild dogs, but at closer inspection I realised they were much, much worse. Muttations. The pack leader stepped forward, and my breath caught in my throat as I recognised her eyes. Clove.

They had done this to her. They had stolen her coffin, her peace. The last thing she had left.

I did the unthinkable, for I knew I could never kill her. That _thing_ was her.

So I ran, past the cave and through a brief expanse of forest towards the Cornucopia. The Muttations were still behind me, and I saw the two remaining Tributes ahead. I drew my sword as I perceived the identity of the female. She seemed unperturbed by my rage, calmly drawing an arrow to her bow and shooting it for my heart. The arrow bounced off harmlessly, landing to the ground as I continued to charge forward.

What cruel irony.

In the blink of an eye, the pack changed directions, Clove guiding them toward the girl instead of me. I couldn't help but smirk. Clove was still watching out for me, even as a Mutt.

While Clove and the pack kept the girl busy, I charged relentlessly toward Lover-Boy, who seemed to be unable to defend himself properly. The gash I had made in his leg impeded him from standing upright, and it took little to no effort for me to pin him in a headlock. He fought valiantly, but his face turned blue from lack of oxygen. The girl fought of the Muttations with an unwavering determination, finally pushing the pack onto lower ground, at the precipice of a cliff. Clove glanced my way, just once, before leading the pack down the cliff.

Turning around, the girl drew an arrow to her bow and aimed straight at my head.

"If you shoot me, we'll both fall," I snarled ruthlessly, and I saw her flinch, glancing at the boy in my arms.

I was vaguely aware of something scratching my hand, but identified the source too late, the girl had already shot her arrow into my hand. Staggering back, I lost my footing, and fell to the Muttations below.

They did not move for some time, and I took that as a sign of acceptance.

I stood, they attacked.

My armour did not suffice against their teeth and I swatted blindly around me, trying to fen doff their onslaught as best I could. The tears streamed freely down my face, I did not feel like hiding them. Clove was nowhere to be seen, and I had lost hope.

At the sound of a sharp bark, the Muttations drew back, and Clove stepped forward, glancing at me with no mercy. She seemed not to be able to discern who I was.

Bending down, she nuzzled my ear softly, before biting mercilessly into my shoulder, leaving a wide open wound in its place.

"Say a prayer to end today," I heard her say, before calling off the pack and running away.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed. All I knew was pain. It clawed at me from the inside, and yet it would not let me die. The wolves had taken my weapons, Clove's knives, everything. I was alive, and burning in the depths of purgatory.

The cannon would not sound.

I began screaming in agony, sure that I must have lost my mind.

The stars looked down at me, and I looked defiantly in return. An Arena did not have stars. But they had cameras, to show Panem what happened when you loved.

An angel came, in the form of the Tribute I had tried to murder for taking my Clove.

"Please, make it end!" I begged her, and she nodded slowly, delivering an arrow through my skull.

The last thing I thought of was Clove, and her body held close to mine.

I left the world at peace, my self but a former dream, forgotten.

**A/N: So, how'd I do? As much as I know I would love to receive nothing but positive feedback on this, it's probably not going to happen. But any reviews, whether they be flames or hugs are appreciated. And yes, I understand that Cato and Clove are both a bit OOC, but bear with me here. They really aren't mentioned all that much. As a final note, for those of you who are curious, look up the lyrics, and listen to the song? It really is worth it.**


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